


You Were Strangers

by borealowl



Series: Four Cups of Wine and related stories [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A&C are cryptids, F/F, Found Family, Jewish Good Omens (Good Omens), M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borealowl/pseuds/borealowl
Summary: It doesn't take Yael and Naomi long to figure out that their best friends aren't exactly human. But how do you respect someone's privacy when they keep performing miracles that you have to pretend not to notice?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Four Cups of Wine and related stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605910
Comments: 86
Kudos: 431
Collections: The Queerest Place in Soho





	1. That Moment of Recognition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wren Truesong (waywren)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywren/gifts).



> This was written from the prompt from Wren Truesong: "one of the times Naomi and Yael discussed how weird their dear friends are." I couldn't pick just one time, so I ended up writing a bunch. I hope that's okay!
> 
> First chapter mostly runs parallel to the chapters of Four Cups, second chapter takes place during the 13 years before the epilogue.

“So those are your internet friends,” Yael says after shutting the front door.

“Well, Zira, anyway. I just met Crowley yesterday, same as you,” her wife replies. Yael smiles.

“Poor Crowley. What a terrible case of unrequited love.”

“Mmm, I’m not so sure it’s unrequited. Zira talks about him a _lot_. On the forum, I mean, and also over email. It’s one reason I thought they were a couple.”

Yael nods briskly. “Well, I hope they work it out.”

Naomi smiles. “You know…”

“No.” Her wife interrupts. “No meddling. Let them work things out on their own.”

Naomi sighs theatrically. “ _Fine_.”

“Interesting people, though,” Yael says.

“I like them,” says Naomi, sounding a bit defensive.

“Oh, me too!” Yael would be inclined to like Zira no matter what, given how much he and Naomi so clearly enjoy each other’s company. As for Crowley, well. Yael tries not to project too much of herself onto others, but it’s hard not to with Crowley. Watching him at the seder, gazing at Zira and doing his best to start fights, Yael couldn’t help but remember her early twenties. She’s extremely glad that they’re over.

She smiles, “Anyway, Zira is an extremely considerate guest. And not just because he cleaned the downstairs.”

“Oh?”

“He also brought an entire case of _very_ nice wine.”

Naomi perks up. “How much is left?”

“Five bottles, I think?”

“Oooh.”

*****

The odd not-a-couple come up a few weeks later, when Naomi is preparing to attend a conference in London.

“Are you going to stay with Eli and Oliver?” Yael asks.

“I was going to, but then Eli reminded me that he’s throwing his big Shavuot party, and really can’t host me that night. I guess I’ll get an Airbnb or something.” She makes a face at the expense.

“What about your internet friend, the one who stayed with us after the seder. Zira?”

Naomi brightens. “Oh! He did say I should let him know if I’m ever in London, so he could return the favor. I’ll email him.”

She gets a positive response less than an hour later. “Huh, I’d have thought he’d be asleep by now. It’s what, 3 AM in London?”

Yael shrugs. “Maybe he’s a night owl. He didn’t seem like one, but that could have been jet lag.”

Naomi frowns. “There’s something odd about him…”

“Odd?” Yael frowns. “Are you not comfortable staying with him? You know we can swing an Airbnb if you need to. Or even a hotel.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Not odd like that—he practically radiates benevolence. Definitely not creepy. Just…odd. Crowley is too, a bit.”

Yael shrugs. “I’d chalked that up to Crowley’s possibly-not-unrequited but nonetheless massive crush.”

“Hmm…it could be that, I suppose. I don’t know. I’ll pay attention while I’m staying with him and see if I can figure it out.”

*****

Yael is hoping her wife will figure it out—she doesn’t want to intrude, exactly, but she’s picked up a bit of the oddness herself, and she wants to pin it down. But when Naomi comes back a few days later, her report only adds to the mystery.

“For one thing, I think he’s older than he looks. Like, _really_ old.”

“Oh? Ageless face old, or fountain of youth old?”

“We-el…He keeps talking about things that happened decades ago like they were yesterday. And like he was there. Which could just be delusion or character immersion in some sort of bizarre 24/7 time traveler LARP, but I don’t think so. Or, if it is, he’s done his research and he’s a better actor than he seems.”

“Well, delusion or serious commitment to a bit do make more sense than time-traveling or immortality. What makes you think it’s real?” Yael makes sure not to sound patronizing. Her wife is brilliant, and Yael trusts good instincts, so she wants to draw out whatever it is that has Naomi convinced there’s something stranger going on.

“Sure, but…I don’t know, maybe it’s just a feeling. Oh! And then there was the swan.”

“Swan?”

“Yeah, he was doing magic tricks—not super-impressive ones, but everyone was drunk and it was cute and entertaining—and then suddenly he makes a real live swan appear. Full-sized! It’s really freaked out, and Zira’s clearly pretty surprised, but then he just waves his hand and it disappears. Just, vanishes. And it was Eli’s apartment, so I know there aren’t any trapdoors or anything.”

“Huh, that _is_ odd. Was Crowley there?”

“Yeah, he was just watching the whole thing. Cringing through Zira’s magic set, which I don’t think was entirely fair. I mean, Zira’s not exactly pro-level, but he really wasn’t that bad. It was fun! Oh, and then after the swan he and Zira were just smiling at each other, all sappy, and that was really sweet.”

“So they’re dating after all?”

Naomi shakes her head mournfully. “Sadly, no. I asked Crowley if he’d thought about it, and he said ‘I try not to.’ Then he got mad at me for prying. Which, to be fair, I deserved.”

Yael purses her lips. “You _did_ promise, love.”

“I know. It’s just hard, when they so obviously have a thing for each other, not to try to help.”

“Yeah, but interfering rarely makes things better. You have to let them work it out on their own.”

Naomi tilts her head. “You know, if someone had just pulled us aside when we were students…”

“We’d have started dating before I was ready, and we’d have had a spectacularly nasty breakup. Or several. You remember what a mess I was back then.”

Naomi shudders. “What a horrible thought.” She takes Yael’s hand. “I’m really glad that didn’t happen.”

Yael is too.

*****

The day they go hiking, Yael doesn’t even notice the magic at first. Or, she does notice it, and part of her brain files it away for later, but for a while she’s distracted by the succession of crises—the fall, the storm, Crowley’s panic attack. And afterwards, she’s more concerned about Crowley’s wellbeing than his abilities. She’s already beginning to think of him as a friend—she likes his sense of humor and the relentless interest in the world that he tries to cover up with a paper-thin facade of disaffection. And of course, she has a great deal of empathy for all the pining.

Not that any of that mattered in the moment, of course—Yael’s crisis brain took over until she’d talked him down. It’s the same script that she runs through with clients—she’s no therapist, but when part of your job is helping refugees prepare for their asylum hearings, you build up certain reactions. And before she started this career, she’d run through the same steps in her own head. She still has to sometimes—there’s a reason that ratty old cashmere scarf stays in the car. Looking at Crowley, shaking and dissociated and so worried about Zira, Yael had thought _Oh, you’re like me._ It’s that recognition that occupies her mind. She worries about it—she wants to help, but she’s afraid of the potential fallout if she does the wrong thing. Yael’s carrying around her own set of broken memories.

So it takes some time before she really thinks about the other events of that day, and she doesn’t bring it up until after she and Naomi have dropped Crowley and Zira off at the airport. They’re resting on the sofa, recovering from the long drive and putting off unpacking, when Yael says, “I think Crowley’s magical, too.”

“Oh?” Naomi is trying to sound disinterested, but the sudden alertness in her voice and posture gives her away. She’s constitutionally incapable of suppressing her curiosity about almost everything. Yael loves her so much.

“I mentioned that kid who hurt himself jumping off the cliff at Second Dam, right?”

“I remember. I’m glad he wasn’t too badly hurt.”

“But that’s the thing. He was. He was clearly concussed, and his back was bent at an angle that did _not_ look healthy, and he couldn’t move his legs at all. But then Crowley lifted him out of the water—which, incidentally, is another thing that shouldn’t have been possible, not at that angle—and suddenly he was fine. Shallow gash on his shoulder, and that was it.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Oh, also, when we were driving back, a fallen tree just sort of…vanished. It was blocking the road, and then it was gone. But I could have imagined that one—I was tired and stressed at that point.”

“Even if so, the dudebro’s recovery sounds pretty miraculous.” Naomi’s eyes suddenly get wide. “Wait, I wonder if that’s what happened to my morning sickness!”

“You think Crowley cured it?”

“Zira, actually. He asked why I wasn’t eating much at Eli’s party, and I explained about the morning sickness, and he got this appalled look on his face and said ‘That won’t do at all!’” Her attempt at mimicking Zira’s accent is always atrocious. Yael’s never sure whether she does it on purpose. “I thought it was kind of funny at the time, but the nausea faded away pretty quickly, and then it never came back. Even after I ate three blintzes and a slice of cheesecake.” 

“Hmm. The morning sickness just disappeared? I thought you’d just gradually moved past that stage.”

“No, it was pretty sudden. And my lactose intolerance seems to have gone away at the same time. Because, again, three blintzes and a slice of cheesecake. And I felt fine. I haven’t needed to take lactaid since.”

They’re both silent, contemplating the possibility. Naomi speaks up first.

“So…now what? Do we talk to them about it?”

Yael thinks about it. “You know I don’t like prying into people’s personal lives.”

“Knew you’d say that.” Naomi kisses her. “You’re probably right, in this case. What if they feel like they have to lie? Or stop talking to us? Or fake their own deaths?”

Yael smiles as her wife continues to list off possibilities. “Or go back to their home planet—or dimension! Or undo all their changes to this timeline. Or erase our memories?” She stops. “No, they wouldn’t mess with our memories. If they were going to, they would have already. But still! We might accidentally put them in a position where they couldn’t stay our friends. And I’d miss them!”

“I think they’d miss us too,” says Yael. “They don’t seem like they have many friends. And they’re both good people, and I like them.”

“Agreed,” says Naomi. “So I guess we’ll just pretend not to notice when they do something weird?”

“Well,” she replies with a slight smile, “We are supposed to care for the stranger.” That one has always resonated particularly strongly with Yael, who spent so much of her childhood feeling like an unwelcome stranger.

Naomi grins. “They’re certainly strange!” Then, with less levity, “You’re right, we shouldn’t pressure them. And I will take that seriously.”

“Unlike your promise not to try to meddle in their love life?”

The smile returns to Naomi’s face. “I’m only human.”

*****

The new policy doesn’t stop the two of them from coming up with theories about their friends’ special powers and seemingly forbidden romance. Vampires are quickly dismissed as a possibility, since they’ve both appeared in the sunlight.

“They could be wizards,” Naomi says. “Gifted with magic, but cursed to be apart for some reason.”

“Why would that be?”

Naomi shrugs. “Maybe they made a deal with the devil or something? I don’t know, I’m still workshopping it.”

The alien theory is rejected by both women—they’re willing to believe in extraterrestrial life, but not that it would be so close to human.

“Maybe they’re mutants.”

Yael raises an eyebrow. “Like the X-men?”

“Exactly! Or some other sort of superhero.”

“Possible. Though I’d expect to see some supervillains as well.”

“You’re right. Plus, there’s a distinct lack of spandex in either of their wardrobes.”

“What about Daoist immortals?” Yael suggests, mostly because she’s reading the Story of the Stone.

“Like, the guys who drank mercury so that they would live forever?” asks Naomi.

“Like that, yes, but successful.”

“I don’t know, aren’t they supposed to be wise?”

Faeries seem a little more plausible, and it’s fun to imagine a forbidden romance between members of the Seelie and Unseelie courts. It’s the working theory for some time, until Yael remembers Crowley walking atop the old iron pipe running through the wildflower preserve.

They’re left without a better theory until Naomi suggests that the two are angels. “I mean, Crowley _does_ call Zira that.”

“And that _would_ explain the healing,” says Yael.

Naomi shakes her head, already changing her mind. “Yeah, but it doesn’t explain why they can’t be together.”

“That could just be emotional problems.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, you’d think that if they were immortal, they’d have worked all that out by now. No, if they’re angels, then clearly one of them is _Fallen_.” She puts dramatic emphasis on the final word, spreading her hands theatrically. Then she giggles, treating the absurd idea with exactly as much seriousness as it deserves.

Yael plays along. “Okay, but which one is which?”

They both think about it for a moment.

Naomi decides first. “It’s gotta be Zira. Crowley’s too idealistic to be a demon.”

“Zira’s the one who said you shouldn’t question the divine plan at the seder.”

“Yeah, but Crowley’s the one who seems to care about people more. Plus, he helped the kids get the afikoman, which isn’t really demonic behavior. Anyway, Zira seems too…physical to be an angel. Think about how much he loves food and wine, and how fussy he is about his clothes. And he just isn’t, I don’t know, _stern_ enough to be an angel. You remember after his panel—Harding was being really aggressive, because some of Zira’s books contradict his model of the ‘early enlightenment religious imagination.’”

“And by religious, he means Christian,” Yael interjects.

“Of course. Anyway, Harding was all up in Zira’s space, telling him that his bibles have been insufficiently authenticated and practically implying that Zira was faking his research! And Zira was just sort of patiently listening until Crowley showed up and went over there to scare him off. Like a guardian angel or something.”

“That’s rather endearing, actually. But it doesn’t make Zira sound like much of a demon, either.”

Naomi sighs. “You’re right. They’re both too earthly to be angels—or demons.”

“Hmmm. What about time travelers? From warring sides, each one sworn to erase the other from the timeline?”

“Ooh, I like that one. Okay, that’s the new theory.”

*****

When Crowley cheerfully announces that his and Zira’s parents both tried to kill them, something clicks for Yael. Her mother hadn’t been that bad, of course, but there are certain patterns one can recognize. The way that Zira sometimes looks guilty over perfectly ordinary things, offering up unnecessary justifications. How terrified he is by responsibility. Or the way that Crowley tries so hard to be flippant and casual, and his patent disbelief that anyone could actually care about him. Or the way they both respond so strangely to compliments and gratitude: Aziraphale startled and Crowley angry.

Naomi probably notices it too—she remembers what Yael was like when they met—but she doesn’t say anything. Naomi’s childhood wasn’t perfect, but she’s never doubted that her family loves her. That assurance has given her a cheerful warmth towards everyone—well, many people—that Yael treasures. She suspects that Zira and Crowley appreciate it too, though Crowley at least will never admit it.

*****

“Why don’t you two go for a walk?”

Yael hears the door close behind them and comes back down the stairs. Naomi looks up at her, mildly exasperated but with a glimmer of amusement underneath.

“I sent Zira and Crowley off to talk to each other. Maybe now they’ll be able to work out whatever was bothering them.” She walks over to the couch and plops down. Yael sits at the other end.

“You didn’t ask Zira?”

“Hah, no. I was going to, but he had other things he needed to get off his chest.” Naomi sticks her feet in her wife’s lap and makes her best pleading face until Yael starts gently kneading her soles.

“What did he say that was so spectacularly stupid, anyway?”

Naomi tilts her head to one side. “You could tell?”

“I’d recognize your ‘at you’ laugh anywhere, love.”

“Well, I asked him why he and Crowley weren’t a couple…”

“Prying again?”

“No! He brought it up himself. Well, that he’s in love with Crowley. It’s kind of become his favorite topic with me lately.” She lets out a blissful hum as Yael hits a particularly sore spot. “I think he’s just relieved to finally have someone to talk about it with. I get the feeling he’s been bottling it up for a while.”

“Speaking of ‘a while,’ I have a thought about that. But first I still want to hear what he said that had you laughing.”

“ _Now_ who’s prying?”

“It’s not really prying when I know you’re dying to tell me.”

Naomi considers this. “See, now I’m tempted to keep it a secret.”

Yael stays calm. She knows her wife. “Are you going to?”

“Hmmm…no, there’s no way I can.” She sits up a bit, her eyes sparkling. “So, he was talking about being in love with Crowley and always saying the wrong thing because of it, and I finally asked him why he and Crowley weren’t together, anyway. I figured that even if he couldn’t tell me the whole truth, he could at least hint at it, talking about their families, or maybe their jobs. And then I could make sympathetic noises and try to encourage him to go for it anyway.”

Yael raises an eyebrow. “But he didn’t say any of those things?”

“Oh no. No, our poor stupid Zira said, and I quote, ‘I’m fairly certain that Crowley doesn’t harbor the slightest bit of interest.’” Her terrible Zira impression barely registers with Yael, who is too busy being absolutely stunned.

“He _what?”_

Naomi just grins. Yael tries again.

“He genuinely believes that?”

‘He _does_! Or at least, he did. He was pretty confused when I started laughing. Then annoyed. Then worried that I was choking or something. But I couldn’t stop! It’s the saddest and funniest thing I’ve heard all year.”

Yael shakes her head. “So after all our speculation about curses and alternate timelines, it’s just they’re both really oblivious?”

Naomi nods.

Yael shakes her head again. “Wow.” She comes to a decision. “Okay, I take it back. Meddle away. They need all the help they can get.”

“Yes!!! I knew you’d come around!”

Yael looks at her wife’s bright smile and sparkling eyes and feels an overwhelming surge of gratitude that this amazing ridiculous woman is part of her life.

“But only with Zira, I think. Poor Crowley’s more likely to yell at you than listen. And even though I know you won’t be upset by that, he’ll feel guilty and sulk.”

Naomi sighs. You’re right. I considered just telling him, but I don’t think he’d believe me. You’re right that they need to talk it out themselves. I _am_ going to encourage Zira to say something, though.”

“Just don’t push too hard. You don’t want to make him do anything before he’s actually ready.” She laughs softly as she remembers her earlier conversation with Crowley. “Apparently it’s already been six thousand years, so clearly Zira needs a lot of time.”

“Six thousand years! Wait, is that counting faster-than-light travel or not?”

Yael laughs louder. “I have no idea, sweet. It’s just a guess based on something Crowley said, anyway.”

“Wow. I hope that’s just an exaggeration. Six thousand years and not saying anything?” Naomi shakes her head. “I’m sure they’ll get it together eventually. I just hope it happens in our lifetime.”

“And in this timeline.”

*****

As it turns out, they only have to wait a few months. Naomi is extremely smug about it.


	2. Real Miracles

Yael’s coworkers warned her that having a child would change everything. She doesn’t agree completely, but many things are different after Miriam is born. One is that Zira and Crowley, who obviously adore the child, get less careful about hiding their special powers. At first it’s subtle (or as subtle as these two get, which isn’t very). Any colds or coughs or ear infections Miriam might have come down with before they visit invariably disappear as soon as Crowley or Zira notices them. Her diaper never seems to need changing around them either.

Crowley is the only one of the two who knows what to do with a baby, but they both turn out to be good with Miriam once she moves past infancy. Her speech is a bit delayed for the first couple of years, but she’s reading before age three, and that’s all Zira needs to bond with the child. She insists on reading him bedtime stories—in person when he’s visiting, and over videochat when he’s not—and he always makes time for it, practically glowing with pride. He starts bringing her children’s books from his collection, starting with Andrew Lang’s fairy books and a series of boys’ adventure stories.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to let her play with those?” asks Yael, watching Miriam read what looks to be a mint first edition of something called _William and the Space Animal_.

“Nonsense,” says Zira. “She’s very respectful of books. Anyway, those particular volumes are _quite_ durable. And I’m sure the person who gifted them would be pleased to know that they’re being read.”

Despite Miriam’s care and the almost supernatural toughness of the books, she does end up ripping a page of _William and the Pop Singers_. Zira flinches, looking physically pained. He reaches out a hand towards the book, then sees Yael, and withdraws his hand. Yael suddenly regrets being in the room, suspecting that if no adult witnesses were present, Zira would have just waved a hand and made the tear disappear. Instead, he sighs, gives her a rueful smile, and goes to fetch the book conservation kit that he claims to have brought with him from England. He shows Yael and Miriam how to repair a torn page with tissue paper and paste, and they’re both very impressed by the results.

Later that night, Naomi says, “He really did do an amazing job. I wouldn’t have expected him to know about actual book conservation, since he can probably just use magic, but that’s an actual repair, and it’s museum-quality.” She smiles, then looks at Yael with concern. “Is something wrong?”

Yael shakes her head. “No, I was just thinking. When Miriam tore the book, she handled it so well. She apologized, and she was worried that Zira would be sad, but she wasn’t scared.”

“That’s good, right?”

“It is! It’s just so different from how I would have reacted at her age.”

“Oh, honey.” Naomi wraps her arms around Yael. “Your mom was awful. And I know it’s hard, but you’re doing a good job.”

“We all are—Zira handled it well, too. He wasn't happy about it, but he didn't take it out on Miriam, and he even managed to turn it into a teaching moment.”

They can’t protect Miriam against every childhood trial—not even magic can do that—but their daughter will never know Yael's own childhood fear, that any single mistake might make her unworthy of love.

*****

When Miriam is three, she falls down the front steps and hits her head on the concrete sidewalk. All four adults rush towards her, but Crowley gets there first and picks her up before she can even start crying.

“She’s fine,” he tells them, carrying the girl back to her parents.

“She’s not bleeding?” asks Naomi anxiously. “It looked like she cut her head open!”

“Nah,” says Crowley, brushing red-brown dust off Miriam’s unblemished forehead. “That’s just dirt.”

*****

It was a particularly long day at work, and Yael is relieved to be home. She can hear Zira and Naomi in the kitchen, and her four year-old daughter is giggling in the living room. She follows the sound, then stops. Crowley and Miriam have dumped a pile of crayons and markers on the floor and are busy drawing together. It would be adorable if they weren’t using the wall as their canvas.

Okay, it’s still adorable.

Yael clears her throat. Crowley and Miriam turn around. Miriam is excited to show off her masterpiece—a rainbow unicorn in outer space—and Crowley doesn’t look even the tiniest bit repentant. If anything, he looks proud.

Yael raises an eyebrow. “Redecorating?”

Crowley smirks. “Artistic expression.”

Yael starts to laugh. Naomi and Zira come to see what the fuss is about, and at Zira’s exclamation of dismay, Naomi starts laughing too.

“I _do_ apologize,” says Zira.

“It’s not your fault,” says Naomi, still laughing.

“I apologize on behalf of Crowley,” Zira says, glaring at his partner, “And I assure you that we’ll have this cleaned up by tomorrow.”

The next morning, the wall is perfectly clean, without a trace of wax or permanent marker. Miriam is sad to lose her masterpiece, but fortunately, three of the four adults had already taken a picture on their phones.

*****

“Look, he has a snake!” Eyes wide with awed delight, Miriam runs through the park toward the man with the giant black python, pulling her mothers along with all the strength in her five year-old’s body. She only slows down when they get closer.

“He looks like Uncle Crowley!” she says to Yael and Naomi.

Yael looks at her daughter in some confusion. “Do you really think so?” she asks. The man is sunburnt, bearded, a little pudgy, and the thick dreadlocks under his crocheted hat are somewhere between brown and blond. He’s also wearing tie-dye, birkenstocks, and no sunglasses. He’s about as un-Crowley as she can imagine.

“Uh-huh! Can I go say hi?”

“Yes, but be polite, and don’t touch the snake without asking first.”

“Okay!” As they approach, the man gives them a friendly smile.

“Excuse me,” says Miriam, suddenly very serious. “What kind of snake is that? Is he a boa constrictor?”

“She is! Her name is Janice.”

“Can I pet her?”

He looks at Yael and Naomi. “Is that okay with you? It’s safe.”

“We’re fine with it,” says Naomi.

The man shows Miriam where and how to pet the snake without disturbing her, then lets Miriam gently run her fingers along the scales. Janice doesn’t seem to mind.

“You like snakes, huh?” asks the man.

“Yes!” says Miriam. “They’re ectothermic. That means cold-blooded. They lay eggs, and they smell with their tongues. Their mouths open super wide, so they can eat things bigger than their heads. They’re really neat. This one looks like Uncle Crowley.”

“Who’s Uncle Crowley?”

“He’s my uncle.He wears all black and his eyes look like hers.” She points at Janice, then continues. “He and Uncle Zira live in England and they’re married. Uncle Eli lives in England too, but he isn’t married to anyone. Uncle Zira gave me a book about snakes.”

“Good for him!”

“Are you ready to go get ice cream?” Naomi asks.

“After I say goodbye to Janice.” Miriam does so, giving a few last careful pets along the snake’s side.

“Make sure she washes her hands before touching any food,” says the man. “Snakes can carry salmonella.”

Yael smiles and thanks him before they go on their way.

After Miriam has gone to bed, they discuss Miriam’s reaction to the snake.

“Should we talk to her about it?” asks Yael.

“What, to ask about Crowley’s eyes?”

“I was thinking more in the line of asking her not to go around telling everyone about them. I mean, he hasn’t even shown them to us, it’s clear he wants to keep them private.”

“I don’t know. He’s apparently comfortable showing them to Miriam, and I don’t want her to think there’s anything wrong or shameful about them.”

“Good point. I suppose he can always ask her to keep it a secret if he’s worried about it.”

Naomi looks thoughtfully at the ceiling. “What kind of being has snake eyes, though?”

“It’s not very compatible with the time traveler theory, is it?”

“I don’t know, we have no idea what eyes will look like in the far future.”

“Still, it does make me wonder if I was too hasty is dismissing the fae theory,” says Yael. “I could be misremembering him walking on that iron pipe. And gluing coins to the sidewalk definitely sounds like something a fairy would do.”

“Yeah, but Zira’s helped me make sufganiyot and latkes dozens of times in the cast iron skillet. And Crowley doesn’t eat much, but he always takes a bite of anything Zira offers him.”

“I’ve noticed that. It’s really endearing.”

“See, I told you meddling was the right thing to do.” Naomi briefly looks smug, and Yael kisses her.

*****

As the years pass, the five of them settle into each other’s lives, almost without noticing. Zira and Crowley visit at least once a month, and sometimes more—on holidays, for summer trips, and just because—and Yael always looks forward to the visits. It’s not just the magic—she genuinely enjoys their company, and it fills a gap in her heart that she’d papered over for years. On some level, she’d always known that her parents might cast her off, though it was still a shock when they did. And as much as she genuinely adores her in-laws, they’re Naomi’s family first and foremost, and their love is to some degree conditional on her relationship with Naomi. Even Harry is Naomi’s father before he’s Yael’s teacher and mentor, which is one reason (the only sensible reason) why she was nervous about asking Naomi out in the first place.

Yael doesn’t doubt Naomi’s love or the strength of their marriage, but there’s a tiny part of her that can’t help but believe that all happiness is fragile, that’s always preparing for the next catastrophe. But Zira and Crowley are their own people, and their relationships with her aren’t dependent on Naomi. They love her, and Naomi, and Miriam, both as a family and as individuals, just as Yael loves them independently and together. There’s something infinitely comforting and stable about this family arrangement the five of them have built, and every time Zira sings the challah blessing with Naomi, or Crowley grins at her across the shabbat candles, or Miriam grabs both their hands to cross the street safely, that tiny knot at the core of Yael’s heart loosens just a bit.

And of course, they’re also just fun. The four of them can stay up far too late just talking about books or music or life, and often do. Zira’s earnestness and determined optimism can’t hide his intelligence, and Crowley has a knack for finding questions no one else would think to ask.

“You’d make a good rabbinical student,” she teases Crowley, then bursts into laughter at his look of abject horror. Years of friendship has made it easy to read his expressions, even if she can’t see his eyes. “It was a compliment, Crowley.”

“Do I even have to tell you why that would be a terrible idea?” he asks, then suddenly goes still.

Yael smiles and reassures him. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. You know that. But, to answer your question…”

*****

A departmental research grant that had been promised to Naomi falls through, awarded—no application even needed!—to a male colleague with better connections. Yael suspects that in this case, “connected” actually means “reminds the department head of himself.” They’re both Ivy League-educated men with the same air of distracted self absorption. Naomi’s sparkling enthusiasm and sly sense of humor, beloved by her students and Yael, tends to land flat with that branch of the faculty. 

Zira takes them all out to dinner to cheer her up, and Crowley does rather pointed impressions of the department head and the other professors, until Naomi’s too busy giggling to be disappointed.

A few months later, Naomi gets an external grant—one that actually looks better on her CV—and Zira insists on taking them out to dinner to celebrate. He would probably take them out to dinner every night if they’d let him. Fortunately, he also likes their cooking. And under Naomi’s tutelage, he’s becoming a fairly decent cook himself.

*****

Zira always accompanies them to shul, and Crowley never does. At first, this is a bit hard for some of the more outgoing members of the Welcoming Committee to accept.

“How’s your young man?” asks Sarah. “He knows that he’s always welcome to attend, yes? We don’t want to pressure him or anything, I just want to make sure that he doesn’t feel excluded.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Zira reassures her.

“He doesn’t have to identify as Jewish,” says Linda. “We welcome people with all kinds of backgrounds who are interested in exploring their connections to Judaism.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Zira replies, “But I don’t think exploration is what he’s looking for.”

“We’re also very supportive of LGBTQ and interfaith families,” Noah interjects. Linda nods.

“Yes, of course he’s also welcome to attend just as your husband,” she adds.

Zira beams at the word husband. “Your support is very appreciated,” he says. “I’ll let him know.”

“And please tell him that he’d be very welcome at the open house next month if he’s at all interested. Or he could drop by our coffee hour—it’s the first Sunday of every month.” Sarah pats Zira’s arm with the maternal affection she bestows on everyone.

Linda nods. “Oh! And you should both come to to Cultural Night next Wednesday. There’s going to be live klezmer!”

“Or you could join us for Yiddish folksong night,” adds Noah. “Didn’t I hear somewhere that you both speak Yiddish? But you can also learn the songs phonetically if you don’t!”

Zira is looking slightly dazed at this point, so Yael steps in and politely makes up a need for Zira to be elsewhere, earning her a look of utter gratitude.

After the third such ambush, Naomi has a quiet word with the Welcoming Committee about respecting people’s boundaries. To their credit, they mostly back off, and Noah even apologizes to Zira for being pushy.

Sarah and her husband Abner do manage to get them to come over for dinner, mostly by promising Zira and Naomi that Ab will teach them the secret to his (truly amazing) matzoh ball soup.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Yael asks Crowley after Zira accepts the invitation.

He’s watching Zira talk excitedly with Naomi about the relative fluffiness of different matzoh balls. There’s an odd smile on his face, affectionate with just a tinge of mockery, though Yael can’t tell who the latter is aimed at. “Nah, it’s fine. I can appreciate a well-crafted temptation as much as the next—“ he stops and shrugs.

“It really would be hard to ask them to resist that one, wouldn’t it?” asks Yael, pretending not to notice the lapse.

*****

When Yael’s mother somehow gets her phone number, Zira is the first one to notice something is wrong. Yael is too stunned by the voice on the other end to do the smart thing, which would be to hang up and block the number. Later, she’ll forgive herself for that, but in the moment, it’s a different Yael operating her body and managing the phone conversation. That Yael says all the things her mother wants to hear, apologizes again and again, says she’s so happy to hear from her mother and they’ll definitely talk again soon. But she does manage to dodge the important questions, safeguarding any information about her home and family.

Eventually, someone that might be Yael manages to end the conversation, and stumbles out of her room. Before she can even make it all the way down the stairs, Zira is there, taking her arm and leading her to the sofa, where tea and cookies are waiting. He’s clearly concerned, but he manages not to ask.

It’s Crowley’s reaction that helps the most, though. He saunters into the room, takes one look at her face, and stops.

“So who do we have to kill?” He sounds so casual that she can’t tell if it’s deadpan humor or a serious offer.

“Crowley!”

Crowley raises an eyebrow at Zira’s indignant reply. “Sorry, angel. Yael, who does _he_ have to kill?”

“Why am I the one doing the killing?”

Crowley looks offended. “I did just offer to do it with you, but you didn’t seem to like the idea.”

“Crowley, need I remind you that I’m supposed to be the nice one?”

“Supposed to be is different from _is,_ angel.”

Their banter breaks through Yael’s numbness a bit, and she laughs, albeit rather shakily. “Please don’t kill my mother. She’s…well, we don’t talk for a reason. But I can’t condone murder.”

“How about being seriously inconvenienced?” asks Crowley. “ _That_ , I could even handle on my own, since _someone_ has decided not to be helpful.”

“I want to be helpful, I just think we should explore alternatives before resorting to violence.”

“Please tell me you’re joking about the violence,” says Yael, still smiling.

“Probably,” says Crowley, “but not about the serious inconvenience. Or whatever else you need done.”

Zira nods. “Whatever you need from us, my dear. Though I _would_ prefer to avoid violence. Unless it becomes necessary.”

The studied casualness has faded from Crowley’s voice. “Can we help?”

“It’s probably best not to give her any more attention at all,” says Yael. “Better for me, anyway.”

They take the hint, though they fuss over her in their own ways—Zira keeps refilling her cup with tea that somehow never gets cold, and Crowley tries to distract her with stories of his time as a nanny, though he’s trying so hard to edit out certain details that the stories aren’t very coherent. There are some funny moments, though. A sort of warm sleepiness settles over Yael, one that she later suspects isn’t entirely natural—it’s certainly not her usual experience of dissociation—and she catnaps until Naomi arrives home early, having received a text message from Crowley.

That night, Naomi mentions that they’d asked her again whether there was anything they could do to keep Yael safe. “It was pretty sweet, actually. They obviously have no idea how to deal with conflict resolution on a human level. If you wanted some sort of magical revenge on your mom, you’d probably get one. I was tempted to tell them to go for it, but I know you’d prefer to just drop it. And anyway, I have no idea what they can actually _do_.”

“It’s probably best not to find out. Not that I think they’d do anything really bad, but still.”

Over the following years, Yael gets the occasional nudge from her Aunt Laura, bent on forcing a reconciliation, so she knows that her mother is still alive. But if Zira or Crowley do anything else, she doesn’t find out about it. As far as Yael knows, her mother never tries to contact her again.

*****

In first grade, Miriam comes home in a state of justified indignation at a classmate who had tried to tease her about not having a father. The incident is resolved as well as anyone could hope for—the teacher had immediately made it clear that the remarks were unacceptable, another classmate announces that she has two fathers, and the entire class has a productive discussion about homophobia and empathy—but Yael and Naomi are still upset. Zira and Crowley are even angrier. Crowley paces around the living room, waving his arms and shouting about human stupidity. Zira has a sort of blank, grim determination that makes Yael briefly doubt her conviction that he is too gentle to be an angel or demon. The four adults calm down after the other child, escorted by his mother, comes by their house to apologize in person—he seems genuinely contrite and isn’t even sure why he’d picked that detail to make fun of. Miriam doesn’t take the incident to heart, and it doesn’t result in any extended bullying. The result is so much better than Naomi and Yael, remembering their own school days, could have ever hoped for.

But afterwards, Zira and Crowley manage to attend every school play or concert, even though poor Zira winces every time a student misses a note. Crowley seems to genuinely enjoy the events, though Yael suspects it’s mostly out of a love of mayhem. During a particularly chaotic talent show, she overhears him saying to Zira, “Six thousand years on the job, and two dozen primary schoolers are better at it than I ever was.”

It takes some effort to pretend not to have heard, but she manages.

*****

When she’s seven, Miriam knocks over her cup at the seder, spilling purple grape juice all over herself and Zira. Yael tries to hide her dismay—why had she and Naomi not noticed that their daughter was wearing a white shirt? And Zira’s all in light blue and cream, too.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” she says to Zira, knowing that he can be fussy about stains.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” he replies with a smile. He dabs at Miriam’s shirt with a napkin. “It barely touched either ofus.”

Yael knows that a minute ago her daughter was covered in juice—she’d even managed to get some in her hair!—but now she and Zira are perfectly clean. Fortunately, the only people who seem to have noticed are Naomi, who looks highly entertained, and Crowley, who looks exasperated.

“Oh, _very_ subtle, angel,” he mutters under his breath. If Yael weren’t sitting right next to him, she’d have missed it. She quickly looks in the other direction, knowing that if she so much as looks at Naomi, Zira, or Crowley’s face, she won’t be able to contain her laugher.

*****

“Are you and Uncle Zira ready to go to school, sweetheart?” Yael asks her daughter. Miriam nods and grabs Zira’s hand. Yael notices that his other hand is holding the handle of a very large…portable terrarium? It’s a massive plastic box, with airholes, and inside is the largest snake Yael has ever seen.

“What is that?” she asks, pointing. Zira looks down at his hand with wide eyes, seemingly unable to answer.

“That’s Uncle Zira’s snake!” Miriam announces proudly. “They’re both coming with me to school today!”

A snake. Hmm.

“I didn’t know you had a snake,” Naomi says, joining them in the hallway.

“Oh yes, had him for years, I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.” Zira is talking very quickly. Yael carefully avoids meeting her wife’s eyes.

“What’s his name?” asks Naomi, a faint edge to her voice.

“Crawly!” says Zira, at the same time that Miriam says “Noodle!” They look at each other in a brief panic.

“Yes, Noodle,” says Zira, still speaking quickly. “Definitely Noodle. Crawly would be a terrible name, very confusing.” It’s probably best that Zira is also avoiding eye contact, because keeping a straight face is getting harder and harder.

Yael squats down to look at the snake. She’s never thought of reptiles as having particularly communicative faces, and she certainly wouldn’t have expected that a snake could look exasperated, but somehow this one is managing.

“Nice to meet you, Noodle." She stands back up. "What kind of snake is he?” 

“Oh, er, well…” Zira looks at Miriam, who shrugs. “I believe he’s... a boa constrictor? Something like that, I suppose, I’m really not an expert on herpetology.”

Yael almost wants to avoid the next question, but it has to be asked. “Does Ms. Snowden know that you’re bringing a snake to class?”

“Yes!” says Zira, emanating relief at having a ready answer. “I spoke with her yesterday when Crowley and I picked Miriam up from school.”

Yael carefully avoids asking where Crowley is. Zira continues, “She did seem a little nervous, but she agreed that it would be a wonderfully educational experience for the children. And I assured her that I’m quite experienced at handling him.”

“I can imagine,” Yael says, perfectly calm. There’s a “Pfff!” of laughter from Naomi, but she quickly stifles it. “In that case, I hope you both have a lovely day at school. Miriam, do you have your lunch?”

“In my backpack!”

“All right, I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Miriam hugs both of her mothers goodbye, then retakes Zira’s hand and leads him outside and down the sidewalk. Yael closes the door behind them and waits until they are out of any reasonable earshot.

“Something tells me,” she says, somehow still keeping her voice level, “That we probably shouldn’t look for Crowley in the guest room.” Then she makes the mistake of looking Naomi in the eyes, and they’re both leaning against each other, laughing too hard to stand.

Noodle’s visit to the school apparently goes quite well. (Several years later, Miriam will bring the snake in again as part of her seventh grade biology report, and that visit will be rather more eventful.) They don’t see much of Noodle after that, though Zira assures them that’s he’s doing well whenever they ask, and he does make the occasional appearance, usually at parties. Eventually the snake’s unexpected appearances start to feel normal, though it always takes a great deal of forbearance not to mention that they never seem to see Noodle and Crowley at the same time.

*****

They raise the issue with Miriam when she’s nine. They’re still not sure that they’re doing the right thing, patiently overlooking all of the strangeness . But there are so many stories of magical companions disappearing when the magic is revealed—the crane wife and east of the sun, west of the moon come to mind—and when your best friends seem to have come out of a fairytale, maybe it’s best to be cautious. What's the old saying? _Don't ask questions of fairy tales._ Anyway, it’s the polite thing to do.

If Miriam had pushed them to broach the subject with her uncles, Yael suspects she and Naomi would have given in. Miriam has known Zira and Crowley her entire life, and it seema like they’re a lot less careful around her, so it would make sense for Yael and Naomi to take their cues from their daughter. But she just seems to think the whole thing is funny, so they keep waiting. 

*****

At some point, Yael realizes that it’s been years since they last tried to guess what their friends actually are. She mentions this to Naomi, who shrugs.

“I feel like we’ve run out of theories. The snake makes time travelers less likely, unless future science gets _really_ advanced. And they don’t seem to have a problem with cold iron. Most of the other ideas just don’t seem plausible, you know?”

“That’s true. And there’s no reason why they have to be something from human stories. Maybe they’re something we’ve never heard of.”

“Exactly! Although…” Naomi frowns in thought.

“Yes?”

“I feel like we may have been too quick to dismiss some of the early ideas.”

“Which ones? Not the X-men one, I hope.”

“Hah, no, that was just a joke anyway. I was more thinking aliens. Maybe they’re shapeshifting aliens!”

Yael laughs, then just sits for a little while, enjoying a quiet moment with her arm around her wife. Eventually, she speaks again.

“I hope that one day they feel comfortable telling us, but in the end, I suppose it doesn’t actually matter. I’d much rather have them, weirdness and all, than my birth family.”

Naomi snorts. “Yeah, even setting your parents aside, your family is a mess. I still remember that dinner with your Aunt Laura. The giant snake is definitely an improvement.”

*****

Yael knows that eventually they’ll have to address the matter. There will be some magic too big to ignore, or Naomi will give in to her insatiable curiosity and ask, or Crowley and Zira will be ready to open up unprompted, though she suspects that the world will have to end before that last one happens. In the meantime, she’s perfectly content to wait. She’s not afraid of whatever the secret might be, and she’s definitely curious, but she’s also happy with things as they are. 

Yael has a home, a community, meaningful work. Food and laughter and long friendly arguments. Her strange and wonderful family. There was such a long time when she couldn’t even imagine what happiness would look like, and she’d kept going mostly out of a stubborn conviction that her mere survival was a victory over a hostile world. She’d said something like that to Crowley once, and he’d understood what she meant.

The magic is amazing, but it’s a just a small part of a life filled with all kinds of joy and awe. Yael can recognize the real miracle when she sees it. She suspects Zira and Crowley can too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the prompt! Next one will be about the conversation directly following the epilogue of Four Cups. And then maybe the student-teacher conference? But I'm always open to requests!


End file.
